


Sunday Secrets

by aloha_cowgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 10:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloha_cowgirl/pseuds/aloha_cowgirl
Summary: Dean has a few secrets... Cas promised to keep them.





	Sunday Secrets

Dean woke up early on Sunday. For the rest of the hunters, Sundays were for sleeping in, for recharging after a week of hunts, but Sundays were Dean’s favorite day of the week, and he didn’t want to waste time lazing around in bed. Sunday mornings were his time to give his favorite machine all the attention she deserved.

He stopped in the kitchen to grab a slice of cold pizza that he ate quickly on his way to garage. When he opened the door, he gave the Impala a doe-eyed sigh. She had worked hard this week, hauling them through four states on routine salt and burn cases, and the dirt and grime of the highway masked the glossy black shine that Dean knew was hidden underneath.

First things first, he headed over to the old radio that sat on a shelf near the door. Unfortunately, a mostly-underground, cement bunker wasn’t the best place to pick up radio stations, so the choices were limited. He skipped the sports-radio and a static-plagued country station, settling on the only remaining clear station which was currently playing a Justin Timberlake song that Dean secretly didn’t hate.

He hummed along as he collected bottles of soap and towels, tossing them in a bucket, and by the time he was hosing the suds off the hood, he was bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, shaking his hips to the rhythm of _Shake It Off_, because Dean also secretly didn’t hate Taylor Swift.

Baby was starting to look like herself again, as Dean danced his way around the side of the car to hang the hose up on its reel. The song trailed off while he found the special towel that he used to clear the water spots from Baby’s paint.

_“Alright, we’re gonna make your Sunday a little sexier with this next one from the Magic Mike soundtrack,”_ the DJ said as the unmistakable notes of Ginuwine’s Pony started playing.

Dean smirked. He’d spent enough time in bars to know the effect that this song had on people, but also because secretly… Dean didn’t hate Magic Mike. In fact, Dean didn’t hate the idea of watching hot men take their clothes off _at all_, though _that_ secret was going to stay a secret for a while longer. He twirled the towel seductively as he headed back over to Baby.

_“I’m just a bachelor… Looking for a partner… “_

He flicked the towel at the headlights as he swaggered back around the front of the Impala, picking up motion in his hips and shoulders as he wiped the water spots from the chrome. When he straightened up to dry the hood, he peeled his damp t-shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him.

“Oh!”

Dean froze. He didn’t turn around immediately, but he could already feel his face turning red. He was also very aware that he was now shirtless. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Cas,” Dean said pointedly. “How long have you been standing there?”

It seemed to take a moment for Castiel to regain his ability to speak. “I—I was coming to see if you’d had breakfast yet.”

When Dean finally turned around, he found Castiel standing near the door in a pair of blue sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was a wild mess. Dean was still adjusting to seeing Cas out of the trench coat, but he definitely was not complaining about it. Castiel’s eyes were wide and questioning, looking between Dean and the t-shirt that had apparently landed right in his hands.

Dean raised a finger as he stepped closer. “Look. Whatever you think you saw here—you didn’t.”

Cas’s brows pinched into a line. “Do you mean the dancing?”

Dean scrubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. “Yeah, Cas, _the dancing_,” he said, retrieving his shirt from the angel’s hands. “Just don’t—don’t mention it to Sammy. Or anyone. Okay?”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel nodded, still looking a little unsure. “Uh, did you—,” he pointed over his shoulder, “did you want breakfast?”

Dean sighed. Sam was going to tease him about this for the next month. “Nah, I’m good. I’m gonna… finish up.”

Cas nodded again and disappeared back through the door. Dean turned the radio off, pulled his damp shirt back on, and finished drying Baby in silence.

***

After an hour or so of hiding out, Dean found Sam and Cas in the library. Sam had his laptop open on one of the tables while Cas sat reading in one of the plush armchairs. Both glanced his way when he entered the room, and Dean braced himself.

“Impala must have been pretty dirty, huh? Took you a while today.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, waiting for it. Surely Sam was setting him up for some wisecrack or one-liner, and Dean wasn’t going to indulge him.

But it didn’t come. Sam turned his attention back to whatever website he was browsing, commenting vaguely on possible cases they could take on this week. Dean looked over to Cas who only looked back with a little twitch at the corner of his mouth. _Huh_.

Around noon, Dean headed into the kitchen. This was another of his favorite things about Sundays. When they were on the road, they survived on diner food and cheap take-out, but here, at home, he could cook. It wasn’t always the most extravagant meals, but he’d so far had no complaints. But cooking wasn’t the only part of this routine that he enjoyed…

“What are we cooking today?” Cas asked, following right behind Dean and rolling up the sleeves of the blue flannel that had likely once been Sam’s.

Cas had decided he should start behaving more like a human after a case went awry when a wraith caught on to his lack of human habits, and ever since then, he’d become very interested in food. He’d apparently come to realize that not all molecules tasted the same, and he was always eager to test out new foods whenever he got the chance.

Dean secretly didn’t hate cooking with Cas.

“BLTs with a twist,” Dean said confidently as he washed his hands.

They bumped shoulder as Cas slid beside him to wash his own hands. “A twist?”

“Yep. We’re gonna fry some tomatoes. Hope you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty, sunshine.” Dean stepped away, drying his hands on a towel before he started pulling out bowls and pans. “Hey, uh, thanks for not telling Sam about…” Dean rolled his eyes at himself. “Y’know. Earlier.”

“You asked me not to,” Cas shrugged. Dean gave him a grateful smile before moving to collect his ingredients.

They worked easily together in the kitchen. Dean supposed it might have something to do with the way they had always been able to move around one another in a fight, each having the other’s back while staying out of the way. Dean manned the stove while Cas dipped the tomatoes between the bowls of egg and flour, covered to his elbows in batter. When the first tomatoes were done, Cas craned his neck to get a look at them.

“Does frying them make them taste different?” he asked, casting his sticky hands a glance.

“Yeah, man. Try one,” Dean answered. Before he could wonder what on Earth made him do it, he picked up a piece between his thumb and forefinger and brought it to Castiel’s mouth. Cas didn’t hesitate to take it, his lips just barely touching the very tip of Dean’s fingers, and the sound that he made… well, Dean secretly didn’t hate that either.

Dean was instantly flushed. _Jesus Christ, what am I doing!?_

“Let’s, uh, not mention this to Sammy either, huh?” Dean said, only half serious.

“Mmh. If you give me another one, it’s a deal,” Castiel smirked. It was such a human gesture, but it suited him, so Dean laughed and did as he was asked. And he definitely didn’t hate it.

***

Later that afternoon, the trio of hunters carried themselves to the ‘man cave’ and collapsed into their usual spots in front of the flat screen. Dean and Cas each sunk back into the cushions of the old couch while Sam’s long legs splayed out from a large bean bag chair on the floor.

“Funny, scary, or… actiony?” Sam asked as he grabbed the remote and started flipping through menus.

"How about that one? _Bird Box_,” Dean said, pointing at the screen. “Gotta love my girl Sandra.”

Sam gave him an amused look but turned on the movie. They spent the next couple hours debating lore and strategies to defeat the monsters that plagued poor Sandra and the kids. When the credits began to roll, Sam stood, tossing the remote into Castiel’s lap.

“Where’re you off too?” Dean asked as his brother stretched his long limbs.

“Promised Jody I’d help her out locating a vamp nest in her area.” He looked at his watch. “She’s gonna be calling soon.”

“Do you need any help?” Cas asked, an edge of concern in his voice. Sam shook his head.

“Nah, you guys can hang out. I got this. Besides, Dean’s at least half a season behind on _Dr. Sexy_ and he needs to catch up.”

Dean threw Sam a glare, but he didn’t argue, because he secretly _didn’t _hate Dr. Sexy and he was actually a _whole_ season behind. When Sam disappeared through the door and his footsteps no longer echoed in the hallway, Dean turned to Cas. He wouldn’t tell. He’d already proven himself trustworthy twice today, though Dean had already fully placed his trust in Cas many years ago.

“So… Dr. Sexy?” he asked with a grin, sliding over to the center of the couch and holding out a hand for the remote.

Cas simply laughed and handed it over willingly. “I assume this stays between us.”

“You’re a good man, Cas,” Dean smirked, as he leaned back into the cushions again, not bothering to move back to his end of the couch.

The thing about saggy old couches is that when two large men sit on them, those men gradually get closer and closer. At least, this was the excuse Dean had for the gradual shift. After the first episode, during which Dean explained each character and their complicated backstory to Cas, their elbows had bumped a few times until eventually they just settled lightly against one another. After the second episode, Dean noticed the warmth of Cas’s shoulder pressed against his own. And after the third, their knees rested together comfortably as they leaned into one another at the center of the couch.

There had always been a tension between them, but this felt _good_ and Dean had no good reason not to allow himself to enjoy it. When he turned his head, he couldn’t hold back a smile. Cas’s eyes were locked on the screen, his expression focused, absorbing the ridiculous story unfolding on screen. Dean would be satisfied just to watch Cas watch television all day. He eventually nudged Cas with his shoulder, but when he looked, Dean had nothing to say. Instead he just smiled. And when Cas smiled back, Dean didn’t hate it.

Somewhere in that shared smile, there was a silent agreement. Their usual tension softened, and Dean was surprised when it was Cas that moved to rest his arm on the back of the couch, just barely brushing along Dean’s shoulders. He was even more surprised to find himself tucking his feet up onto the couch as he slid in a little closer. They sat in a comfortable silence with only the occasional commentary from Dean, filling Cas in on the details of Dr. Sexy’s latest conquests, until Dean’s eyelids drooped shut and his head fell to rest on Cas’s shoulder.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “You’re tired. You should go to bed.”

With his eyes still shut and his walls quickly crumbling, Dean whispered back. “Come with me.”

***

They walked silently through the darkness of the bunker; their fingers intertwined. By the time they reached Dean’s room, drowsiness had transformed into something else—an ache that mingled with anticipation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dean crowded into Cas’s space. Their chests pressed together as they lingered close enough that Dean’s nose grazed along the side of Cas’s. He was close enough to feel the angel’s breath on his own lips, a magnetic aura, pulling them together. It was a pull that had always existed, but from this distance, was infinitely stronger. When they finally gave in to it, it was gentle and slow. Their lips just barely brushed together as their hands explored. Hips… sides… chest… neck.

Cas’s fingers found solace in the back of Dean’s hair, holding him as he deepened the kiss. Dean melted into the heat of it, taking refuge in knowing that no matter what came of this sudden shift in their relationship, this was worth it. When their lips finally parted, neither moved away. They stood in one another’s arms; their foreheads resting together.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, letting a breathy chuckle follow. “I’ve—I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Cas’s smile was small and timid—_human, _Dean thought. “So have I.”

He took Cas’s hands, pulling him toward the bed. They kicked off their shoes and pulled off their jeans before slipping under the covers and into one another’s arms again. As an angel, Cas still didn’t need to sleep, but he put up no argument as he wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him close to his chest.

Dean’s head rested over Cas’s heart, the beat grounding Dean in the moment. He wondered why he’d been so afraid of this… because not only did he not hate it, he felt _free_—freed from his own fears, freed from hiding such an important part of himself, freed from the secrets.

“Cas…” Dean began, keeping his voice low. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Cas said preemptively. “I’ll—I’ll keep this between us.”

Dean pulled away, sitting up so he could look into Cas’s eyes. They were dazzling, even in the dark, and the slight hint of sadness hidden beneath the smile pained Dean to his core. The idea that Cas thought Dean wanted to keep him secret…? He hated it.

“No, Cas, that—that’s not—” He reached out to cup Cas’s face, tracing the shape of his cheekbone under his thumb. “Cas, I don’t want any secrets… Not about this. Not about _us_.”

Cas smiled as he leaned into Dean’s touch, turning slightly to kiss the palm of Dean’s hand before pulling him back down onto his chest. Dean settled in, letting the angel wrap him peacefully in his warm arms where he belonged. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he whispered again. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I love you.”

***

When Dean and Cas finally made it to the kitchen in the morning, Sam was already there, bent over a newspaper and nursing a mug of coffee. They shared a glance before they began moving around the kitchen, Cas pouring two mugs of coffee while Dean pulled a box of cereal and a pair of bowls from a shelf.

“’Morning,” Sam greeted, not looking up from his paper.

“Um, hey, Sammy,” Dean responded nervously as he sat across from his brother. “We—I… wanted to talk to you about something.” Cas set Dean’s coffee in front of him before settling beside him.

Sam raised his brows in question, looking between the two of them, though Dean thought he saw the subtle hint of a smirk. “Oh? What is it?”

Dean took a deep breath and looked over at Cas who gave him an encouraging nod. “Okay. Look. There’s been some things—some secrets I’ve been keeping…”

“Is that so?” Sam said, leaning forward on his elbows. Dean narrowed his eyes at the mocking tone.

“Shut up, Sam, I’m trying to tell you something here. Okay. So, uh.” He hesitated, trying to figure out where to start. “I like Dr. Sexy.”

Sam raised a brow, amused. “I know, Dean.”

“And sometimes I dance to Taylor Swift while I’m washing Baby.”

“I know that too.”

“And I’m in love with Cas.”

Sam didn’t answer immediately, but his face split into a wide, kind smile. His voice softened when he finally said, “I know, Dean.”

Dean was stunned silent. That wasn’t what he expected. He looked over to Cas whose head tilted slightly in confusion.

“Dean, there’s never been much you’ve been able to hide from me,” Sam continued. “You do a pretty good job of hiding the truth from yourself sometimes, though.”

He considered Sam’s words as a wave of relief slowly washed over him. The weight of years of secrets lifted from his shoulders. He was lighter, happier—giddy with the freedom as he threw an arm around Cas’s shoulder and kissed him.

Sam smiled, rolled his eyes, and lifted his newspaper to continue reading, not wanting to watch his brother make out with an angel at the breakfast table…

But secretly, Sam didn’t hate it.


End file.
